Bliss
by millenniumfork
Summary: In a world where the new drug Bliss has become commonplace and the old government overthrown, Malik has always been content with his status as the Marquis' brother. Content, that is, until a thief shows him the truth. Thiefshipping AU, Full Summary Inside
1. Chapter 1

Full Summary: In a world where the new and highly addictive drug Bliss has become commonplace, and the old government overthrown by a new and militaristic regime, Ishtar Malik has always been content with his status as the brother of a Marquis. Content, that is, until a certain white-haired thief and addict show him the truth and corruption of their world. Thiefshipping, BakuraxMalik

I do not own Yugioh.

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><p><em><strong>0 3 . d e c e m b e r . 2 0 1 2 – 12 : 4 3 PM<strong>_

"_Welcome, ladies, gentlemen, partners of the National Association and Academy of Sciences." The man greeted formally, from the front of the hall. His voice rolled and boomed through the speaker system._

_"I have a special treat for you today, one that may even, if given the chance, change our world forever."_

_His eyes flashed as he grinned. The world round him shuddered to a halt as Ishtar Mariku took a deep breath and pulled, from the folds of his suit, a syringe filled with a clear liquid. The audience murmured as one._

_"Ladies and gentlemen," He repeated, "Welcome to Bliss."_

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><p><em><strong>1 8 . j u l y . 2 0 2 4 – 8 : 34 AM<strong>_

Ishtar Malik pushed himself up from the table with a sigh. Across the mahogany surface, his older brother Mariku, elder by 12 years, eyed him over a cup of coffee.

"You're going into the city?" He rumbled, disapproval eminent on his face.

"Yes." Malik replied absentmindedly. "Is there a problem with that?" His eyes challenged the elder. "It's not forbidden."

Mariku raised his eyebrow. "You're the brother of a Marquis, Malik." He shook his head. "A dump filled with those pieces of garbage is no place for one of such high rank."

"Those pieces of garbage are your paying customers." Malik reminded him. "Besides, I'm just going to get a few things from one of their markets. It's your face they know, not mine."

"Fine." Mariku growled. "Be back within two hours, and don't speak to any of them."

"Yeah, I know." He waved dismissively before exiting the room.

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><p><em><strong>1 8 . j u l y . 2 0 2 4 – 1 0 : 17 AM<strong>_

"Overprotective ass." Malik muttered, making his way through the familiar side streets with ease. "Honestly."

"Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness."

Malik spun around instantly, apprehensive. He looked for the speaker with suspicion.

A tall man with bone white skin stood behind him, smirking. Malik tensed, his hand instantly moving to the pocket where he kept his knife.

The man stepped closer, and Malik's blood ran cold when he saw the eyes – both iris and surrounding white had colored a dark red, an instant giveaway to a life of addiction to Bliss.

Malik shot him a look of scorn. "And you would know, I suppose?" He scoffed, scanning for an escape route if necessary. The man smiled, and all of his teeth showed.

"Perhaps." He laughed harshly. "And what about you, hm? What would a pretty little Highlander like you be doing out among us low-life addicts?"

Malik swore inwardly. The man was sharp; uncommon, for a Blissed. They were usually complacent, stumbling around with stupid smiles on their faces.

"I can go where I please." Malik informed him with contempt. "What's it to you?"

The man laughed, the red on red eyes raking over Malik.

"Ah, but I have taken an interest in you," He paused, "Ishtar Malik."

Malik froze, the situation suddenly all the more real. Radical groups, independents, he could name hundreds of people with reason to hate the ruling class and all associated with it, including his family. Malik cursed himself - he should have suspected when the man had referred to him as a Highlander, some of the most bitter of the poor class's name for the wealthier, more influential families that lived north of the Industrial Areas, as Malik did. He began slowly edging closer to his planned escape route – a low fence – trying to distract the man.

"How do you know my name?" He asked, his heart pounding, struggling to remain calm. Just a few more steps… "I haven't made my public debut yet."

"I have my sources." The man stepped closer, too close. "You see, it goes hand in hand with my work."

"You-Your work?" Malik asked frantically, struggling to keep his voice light, unconcerned. Only a few more seconds.

"Yes, my work." The white haired man leered, grinning uncannily. "Special interests field."

"What kind of special interest?" Malik swallowed, bracing himself. The hellish eyes gleamed.

"Assassination."

With a yell, Malik lashed out, his fist connecting with the man's jaw. Without pausing to see the damage, he swung himself over the fence. As soon as his feet hit the pavement, he ran.

"Fuck! Filthy _brat_!" The man swore, and a moment later Malik heard the rattle of the fence and the sound of the man landing on Malik's side, swinging over as Malik had.

_The main street is just up ahead,_ Malik thought desperately, the blood pounding in his ears_. If I can just make it-_

A few feet from the opening, the breath was knocked out of him as he was slammed into the wall and dragged back into the alley.

"Help!" Malik screamed in desperation, even knowing the only people around were Blissed – not exactly known for being the quickest to react. "Hel-"

The man's cold hand clamped tightly around his jaw. He was thrown facedown to the ground roughly, and the man followed him, never letting go of Malik's face. Malik scrabbled desperately for the knife in his back pocket, adrenaline soaring, elation when his fingers clumsily gripped the handle-

"Oh, _no you don't_." The man snarled, his other hand catching Malik's wrist at an odd angle. The teenager heard himself cry out, muffled against the man's hand, as the bones shifted, straining against the unnatural position; the man slammed his hand into the rough ground once, twice, again, until the pain was too great, and Malik released the knife. The man grabbed it and tossed it to the side.

Malik's mind reeled. _No, I can't die, I can't!_He twisted frantically under the assassin pinning him. Malik didn't understand; Blissed were always so relaxed, slow. It was part of the drug. This man was deadly, all sharp edges and speed. It made no sense, though he supposed there was no good thinking about it if he were about to die.

"Oh, I know who you are, all right, Ishtar Malik." The man spat the royal name, made a mockery of it. He felt hot breath heat the back of his neck. "I know your brother well. You look like him, you know that?"

Malik felt something cold press into the skin of his back, and he thrashed even harder, fearing the unknown object - a blade? A needle?

"Stay _still_!" the man roared, and Malik made an effort to stay calm, shaking violently. The cold pressure returned, sliding down the back of his shirt. It brushed against an ugly, raised ridge of scar, eliciting a shiver and a wave of nausea from Malik. He choked into the man's hand.

"Yes," the man muttered. "You're Ishtar's brother, all right. Smaller, prettier, stupider...but you're his brother."

Malik tried to control his breathing, realizing there was no way out of this. The man had surprising strength in his wiry limbs (again, too much for a Blissed-!)

"Speak of this to your brother, and you will both die." The man hissed against his neck. Malik arched his back at a sudden stab of cold pain, a feeling of _locking_along his spine.

Suddenly, the pressure was gone, and astonishment jolted through Malik as the restricting weight lifted from his body. He scrambled to his knees, lunging for the discarded knife and twisting to prepare for an attack. His eyes widened. There was no one there.

He caught only the flash of a black cloak disappearing around the corner of the alley's entrance.

The man was gone, as quickly as he had arrived. When Malik thought about it, he realized with a jolt that he was still alive - and that the whole ordeal had lasted only minutes.

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><p><em><strong>1 8 . j u l y . 2 0 2 4 – 11 : 4 4 AM<strong>_

The silent, darkened room lit as the door swung open with a bang and a curse. It slammed shut, a silhouette appearing._**  
><strong>_  
>"I've located the boy." Bakura growled, leaning against the doorway, his arms folded across his chest.<p>

"And you placed the tracking device under the skin?"

Bakura nodded, addict eyes scraping across the dark room irritably. "It slid in with minimal effort and locked onto the spinal column, as you predicted."

The man turned to face him with a nod of acknowledgement. "Begin the second phase of the plan."

"Is that an _order_, Yami?" Bakura mocked, receiving an exasperated glance.

"Why do I put up with you?" Yami murmured half-heartedly.

Bakura sobered.

"Because we are both fighting for the same reason."

Starting, Yami nodded solemnly. He placed a hand on Bakura's shoulder before exiting.

Left alone, Bakura glanced up at the screen, where a large picture of a smiling Malik Ishtar was displayed, accompanied by a blinking location on a map.

_I'll find you again, Ishtar Malik_. he thought, fists clenching. His nails dug into his skin._ And when I do, you - and your tyrant of a brother - shall die._

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><p><strong>Plot to pick up soon - Reviews are appreciated.<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for your feedback, all of you! I tried to respond to everyone, but my email's been spazzing and sporadically deleting things? I value every one of your reviews, thank you so much! Sorry if this chapter took a while to upload, my beta/girlfriend was away for a week, and couldn't get this back to me. A quick explanation: Highlander, in this universe, is a slur for the wealthier, more influential families that live to the North, considered offensive by that nobility. The details of the drug and how everything works will be revealed in time. Without further ado, enjoy~**

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><p><em><strong>0 2 d e c e m b e r 2 0 2 4 . 1 1 : 4 3 AM<strong>_

_"You see, ladies and gentlemen, Bliss has already been approved by four different world leaders, and is currently in process to be adopted as a treatment for depression by the UN." The man swept his arms, aware of the crowd's captivation. He smiled welcomingly. "Happiness, relaxation, no addictives, only...bliss."_

_A reporter from the front raised a hand skeptically._

_"You, in the front." The man smiled, sweeping back his bangs confidently._

_"Ishtar Mariku, what do you have to say to rumors and reports that this drug was tested on humans? Human children, no less?"_

_The audience pressed closer for the response as the question that had been on all their minds was asked._

_The man sobered, peering over his reading glasses._

_"Rumors," he said quietly, "are rumors, and should under no circumstances be taken as truth."_

_The woman sat down, sheepish as her colleagues scolded her._

_"Bliss is not a drug, my faithful audience." Mariku rocked back on his heels easily, a slight smirk tugging at his mouth. "It's a pastime, much like smoking - with greater benefits and far less consequences."_

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><p>"In the summer of 2013, the first groups made their move. Holding a monopoly on one of the largest pharmaceutical industries was only the beginning, as our founders began to invest stock in other areas of the economy as well. The system and its economy, corrupted as it was, was ready to fall apart, only to be saved by the dedication of our esteemed..."<p>

He sighed, eyes drifting over to the window. The continuous rain of two weeks had finally stopped, leaving the world behind clean, fresh, and renewed.

"...To this day, there are only a few remaining resistance factions. One of the most prominent, the Sword of Revealing Light, have been increasing activity lately with the assassinations of several members of nobility..."

Malik wondered idly what would be selling in the cities with the new season. It had always been far more interesting there, even with its slower inhabitants and grungy appearances. He sighed again.

"Malik."

It had been almost two months since he'd travelled into the Industrial Areas, two months since he'd been sure he would be killed. Malik winced, remembering the sharp pain in his back that so often had nagged at his consciousness. He had surely spent some hundred hours with his shirt off, staring in the mirror - his old scars stared back, but nothing new. Sometimes a sharp pain stabbed at him, but was gone before he could really be sure.

"Malik, are you even listening to me?"

He often wondered why the self-proclaimed assassin had stopped short. Malik had come up with a variety of reasons; he'd stopped because he'd never killed, he had been afraid Malik's cries for help had been heard, he was simply insane and was having a laugh...none seemed plausible. And he had moved so fast...! His eyes had been a telltale sign, he should have barely had the motivation to even get up and feed himself, but that man had tossed Malik around like a rag doll - Malik, who'd had years of combat training due to all the nobility's fears of assassination. He hadn't told his brother; afraid of never being allowed to leave without a bodyguard again, afraid of the man's threat to harm them. However, keeping himself locked away was becoming so dull, Malik was beginning to think risking being killed was worth it to go back to the cities.

"Malik!"

He jumped as the woman clapped her hands in his face, and he sunk down in his chair, trying his best apologetic look.

"Malik, are you even listening to me?"

"Of course, Miss Kujaku." He replied with all seriousness, examining the woman.

Mai Kujaku, his tutor, shook her head disbelievingly. "Alright, then, what was I talking about?"

Malik blanched, struggling to recall the last words he heard. Finally he gave up, and guessed with his best shot.

"Something about the Great Rebellion?"

A hint of a smile played on her lips. "Perhaps. A little more detail?"

Malik groaned. "Miss Kujaku, that's ridiculous. It's all the same." _It's all we ever talk about,_Malik added silently.

"You were only five, Malik." She laughed. "Doesn't that make it a bit more interesting, knowing you were alive as your brother and his companions changed the world?" She swept an arm with a polished dramatic flair.

"Not really." Malik admitted truthfully. She rolled her eyes.

"Alright, we can stop for today." She closed the textbook, sliding into the seat across from him. "So, tell me, Malik? How's life?" Mai winked.

"...It's life." He responded with a shrug. Mai frowned.

"You know, you haven't gone to the southern areas in a while." She mused. "You used to go every chance you could. What happened?"

Malik groaned internally. _He_happened, he wanted to say, but he held it back, settling for a shrug.

"Just...doesn't seem that interesting anymore." He muttered, pulling at his sleeve uncomfortably.

Mai's glance was incredulous. "Malik, everyone in the manor used to joke that one day you'd run off to live with...those people."

Malik shifted under her gaze uncomfortably. He _did_miss it...Malik glanced out the window towards the south longingly. It wouldn't hurt to go just once...and besides, he'd just go to one of the other nearby areas. Blissed rarely moved. The man couldn't possibly find him.

"I...guess..." Malik said thoughtfully, the idea gaining traction. "Yeah, I could go."

"Ah, but Malik," Mai teased, a playful smile on her face, "We're in the middle of a lesson."

Malik looked up, surprised, before his expression dissolved into a scowl.

"That's cold, Miss Kujaku."

"I'm joking." She waved him away, before adding under her breath, "It's not like you were paying attention anyway."

Malik beamed, excitement rising in him despite the apprehension he felt. "Thank you, Miss Kujaku!"

"You're welcome, Malik. Have fun, and try not to let your brother see." She smiled at him, sliding her hand into her pocket. "He's been so happy that you've been staying out of the south."

"I won't." Malik promised, already halfway out the door.

Twenty minutes later, he crept through the manor towards the back door. He realized with a wince he'd have to go by his brother's study. Hopefully he wasn't inside...

"Malik."

Malik froze in the doorway.

His brother peered at him over reading glasses at his desk, a handful of papers in his hand.

"Yes, Mariku?" he asked lightly.

"Come here."

Defeated, Malik entered the study.

The room had high ceilings, shelves that touched the top, all stacked with books of theory and history and other science he'd never cared for. Malik took the seat opposite his brother gloomily, staring at the desk rather than at the man.

"You're going to the industrial areas." A statement, not a question.

"Only for an hour or so." Malik whispered.

He always imagined himself standing up to his brother, but when the time came, he could only keep his head lowered. Ishtar Mariku had that effect on people; tall, broad-shouldered, unreadable.

"You haven't gone for months." Disapproval radiated from him. "I thought you'd finally gotten over them."

"S'only for a little." Malik mumbled, lifting his gaze to his face. Mariku stared back impassively.

"It's dangerous." Mariku finally spoke. "Our family has many enemies."

Malik shifted in the armchair uncomfortably, remembering the white-haired man. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea after all...no. He wouldn't let some crazy Blissed ruin his life. He was pulled from his thoughts by Mariku's words.

"You know I'm only trying to protect you." Mariku leaned forward in his chair, placing his papers down on the solid wood desk and fixing Malik with a solemn gaze. "I protected you from our father, and I protect you now."

Malik felt the burn of his scars, as he often did when Mariku brought them up; this time, he felt a single cold pain in the small of his back, too.

"I'll be careful." Malik promised quietly. "I really want to go."

Mariku examined him for another minute before settling back in his chair.

"Take a guard." He instructed, and Malik relaxed with an uneasy smile.

"I will." He lied.

He'd gone with a guard before and had sworn to never do it again: their uniform attracted more attention than one person travelling alone, and kept him away from the markets. "Thank you, Mariku."

"You're welcome." Mariku shuffled the papers on his desk before picking them back up, reading over them with a frown. Malik caught of a glimpse of the standard documentation for state prisoners, accompanied a single photo; a boy with the strangest looking hair he'd ever seen.

He shrugged it off and left before Mariku changed his mind. It probably wasn't important, after all.

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><p><em><strong>0 2 d e c e m b e r 2 0 2 4 , 5 : 2 6 P M<strong>_

The city was everything he'd remembered it to be and more; he guiltily referred to it as _the city_in his mind, after picking up on his first visit that only the nobility to the north called them "Industrial Areas". Always changing, the market had expanded, and he perused each stand eagerly. The time quickly flew by, and when Malik remembered to inquire for the time, he was horrified to discover roughly five hours had passed. What if his brother realized he hadn't returned? It was rare, Malik saw him three days out of seven, he was so busy with his work, but if he did realize, he would worry. Worse, never let him return...!

"Watch it, kid!"

"I'm sorry." Malik apologized profusely. His eyes widened in mortification as he saw he had unintentionally knocked the man's basket out of his hands, sending bent scraps of metal everywhere.

"Thought that's funny, huh, you filthy Highlander?" The man sneered. Malik winced. It wasn't that obvious he was from the north, was it? True, his speech was smoother than the rough dialects of the cities, but he hadn't really been speaking to anyone.

"I'm sorry. I lost my balance." Malik repeated warily, hoping to get out of this without a fight. No such luck - the man grabbed the front of Malik's shirt and yanked him closer.

"You Highlanders think you're so great." He spat. Malik flinched. "I should teach you a lesson you won't-"

"Release him or die."

Distracted, man narrowed his eyes suspiciously over Malik's shoulder. Malik's breath caught. He _knew _that voice-!

"Who are you?" The man holding Malik scoffed.

"I said," the newcoming voice was calm. "Release him or die."

The man let go of Malik's shirt, and Malik spun around. Standing behind him was the white-haired man. His muscles locked in fear.

"You!" Malik gasped and stumbled backward into the irritated man, who promptly shoved him back forward.

"You know this Highlander scum?" The man's voice sounded suspicious.

"He's my cousin."

Malik's eyes widened. "I'm not your-"

"Shut your mouth, brat." The man snarled, barely sparing him a contemptuous glance before addressing the shopkeeper. "Hand over my cousin, and I'll leave you alive."

The man grumbled, eyes shifting before backing away. Malik wondered if the assassin was well known, to have his threat taken so seriously. At least he was in the open, he just had to find one of the few guards that patrolled the city-

A tight grip encircled his arm, yanking him forward roughly as the white haired Blissed walked at a brisk pace. Fear coursed through Malik, and he tried to pull free to no avail.

"Stop fighting me." The man hissed. "That crowd is still riled up. Would you rather deal with them, or me?"

Malik opened his mouth to reply _them_, but he snapped it shut in shock as he was abruptly pulled into a side alley. In an instant, his back was pressed to the wall, a knife to his throat and a hand over his mouth. Malik began to shake, eyes drifting toward the knife in terror.

"Don't scream." the man breathed. "Don't you even dare." Slowly, watching Malik carefully, he removed the hand over his mouth.

Malik looked up at him, his eyes wide, and blurted, "Don't kill me." before he could stop himself.

As far as a statement could go, it was pathetic, certainly not brave at all, but it rushed out of his mouth before he considered how it sounded.

The man shot him a look of utter loathing. "I wish I could." He snorted, fumbling in the folds of his trench coat. "I won't kill you, Highlander. Not yet, anyway. You're still useful to me."

Confusion swept through him. The man had said he was an assassin, wasn't he? The Blissed really were insane. Of course, this didn't reassure him. Malik opened his mouth to question his statement when, abruptly, a cloth was pressed to his face, smothering him. Panic shot through him, flashes of recollection of a lesson of Old World drugs. He thrashed.

"Just because no one uses the old drugs," The man grunted to himself, "doesn't mean people have forgotten how to make th-_brat!"_When Malik flailed, he knocked him back into the wall, pressing the rag closer. His head hit the wall hard, and Malik could do nothing but inhale, pleading with his eyes.

The world began to spin, and the teenager felt the man recoil in disgust as he slumped forward into his chest. Darkness enveloped his vision, and the last thing he saw were two hateful red-on-red eyes, glaring at him in contempt.

The world dropped away as blackness swallowed him.

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><p><strong>Review, yeah? :)<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Welcome, readers, to another chapter of Bliss! I have such grand plans for this story, and I'm glad to share it with all of you!**

**Because I realized I hadn't earlier stated it, readers should be aware I am not a native English speaker, so I apologize for anything that seems incorrect or inconsistent.**

**As always, thanks to my fabulous beta and girlfriend, millenniumspoon, for helping me and getting these ready. You may notice our names match now, hehe. Her idea, not mine.**

**I'm going to start putting a brief recap of the last chapter in the author's notes, as I know sometimes I forget details between updates on stories. We left off with Malik returning to the city at his tutor's recommendation, and Bakura came by to whisk him away like a gallant knight on a horse. Or a kidnapper using chloroform.**

**Without further ado, enjoy!**

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><p>He woke slowly, stirring and shifting on what seemed to be a rough, scratchy surface. Malik groaned and lifted his head blearily.<p>

It took a moment for reality to sink in.

_Oh god,_ he realized, horror rising in his chest as his memory flashed back._ I've been kidnapped. I've been kidnapped._

Malik glanced around wildly to find himself in a small, clean space; no windows, all whitewashed walls and a single cot and toilet. He lay on his back on the cot.

_I've...been...drugged and kidnapped._ Sweat broke out across his brow. _Calm down. Breathe. Think clearly._

An awful feeling swept over him in a sickening wave, and Malik had just enough time to fall off the cot and drag himself to the toilet before vomiting violently.

He shivered against the seat and drew his limbs closer to his body, wrapping an arm around his knees. _This can't be happening,_ Malik thought desperately._ I'm going to wake up in a few minutes, and laugh at myself, and-_

He hadn't noticed a door - there was no handle on the inside - but suddenly one slammed open. Malik jolted back weakly.

The white haired man strode into the room easily, followed by a shorter man with the strangest hairstyle...Malik frowned. That hair seemed familiar from somewhere, though he was sure he'd have remembered a style like that. Crazy Blissed freaks and their hairstyles.

His kidnapper shoved a glass of water into his hand roughly. A small, rational voice pointed out that there must be a camera for them to know he had thrown up, but he was too weak to care. He rinsed out his mouth gratefully before sinking back onto the floor in exhaustion. The shorter man crouched in front of him.

"Malik Ishtar." His voice was calm, solemn, and he had a nice cast to his face - not exactly friendly, but kinder than the harshness of his white haired associate, yet a chill ran through Malik when he saw the red-on-red eyes.

"Where am I?" Malik croaked. "Why am I here?"

"You were given chloroform." the man explained, avoiding Malik's question. "Some side effects of this include headaches, depression, and nausea." His eyes flickered in brief distaste to the toilet.

"Don't forget the obvious unconsciousness." The other man snorted.

"Yes, Bakura." The man accepted in a weary voice. His sigh led Malik to wonder if the two fought often. _Bakura-so that's his name,_Malik stored the information away. "I should think that was a given."

"I don't know. Highlanders are pretty stupid." Bakura chuckled. "Especially this one."

"Shut up!" Malik snapped, anger flaring through him at the insult. "Shut up, you filthy Blissed!"

The man in front of him's red eyes narrowed. The one called Bakura threw back his head and laughed raucously.

"See, Yami? Even though we could kill him, it doesn't sink in. He's stupider than the others."

Malik fumed quietly, apprehension flickering through him at the word _others_- there had been more? The one named Yami stared at him impassively for another half a second before standing and waving Bakura over.

Malik cried out as Bakura seized his upper arm roughly, yanking him to his feet. Malik began to struggle and pull away, only to freeze as the unmistakable feeling of cold metal touched his temple.

Bakura was holding a gun to his head.

"No." Malik whispered hollowly. "Please."

"Shut up, brat." Bakura sneered. "Hurry up, Yami. I don't want to touch this trash any longer than I need to."

Yami made no comment and walked around them silently, snapping a dozen photos from all angles with a small camera he'd pulled from his pocket. When he stepped back, Bakura dropped him to the floor unceremoniously.

"I'll make the demands." Yami told Bakura colorlessly. "Does he still need the procedure?"

Bakura pursed his lips thoughtfully.

"Wait," Malik looked frantically between them. "What procedure?" He might as well have been talking to the wall as his words were ignored.

"Yes. The chip's transmission is fading out. It needs to be replaced." Bakura decided, yanking Malik back to his feet seconds after he had pushed him to the floor.

"_What chip_?" Malik shrank back, only to be ignored again.

"I'll send the demands. Take him to Jou." Yami finished coolly, sliding his device back in his pocket.

"Demands?" Malik pried himself free of Bakura frantically, only to have his arm seized again roughly. "I won't go!"

"Shut up, brat." Bakura sneered, obviously enjoying his situation. He dragged Malik out the door and into a brightly lit hallway. "You don't have a say."

"I want to go home." Malik whispered. Bakura's grip on his arm tightened, but he didn't say anything.

They walked for several more minutes past countless doors, the silence unnerving Malik. He broke it nervously.

"When we met..." Malik gnawed his lip. "You said you were an assassin."

Bakura glanced at him sideways in suspicion, as though Malik were going to attempt an escape through conversation. "Because I am."

"You didn't kill me." Malik countered, then winced as he realized how much like a challenge that sounded.

"I will." Bakura snorted. "Right now, you have a bit of use, surprisingly enough. After that, I'll kill you. Does that reassure you, Highlander?"

Malik hesitated. "What use do I have?"

"You're the brother of one of the three Marquis, not to mention the brother of the one that controls the most area and started this whole mess." Bakura scoffed. "That alone makes you a target, or are you so thick-headed even that information passes through your skull?"

"...You're a resistance group." Malik stated reluctantly.

"Hm, very good, Highlander. Perhaps you're not so hopeless after all."

"But..." Malik protested weakly. "I was five during the Rebellion! I didn't do anything!"

"Exactly. You did nothing, and you've done nothing since." Bakura accused. "I was eight. You don't see me sitting around on my ass."

Malik processed the new information silently. If he had been eight...twelve years later, this man was 20, only three years older than Malik. Disquiet settled through him. He seemed older.

"I don't..." Malik held his breath, testing the waters. "I don't understand why an assassin would have a use for someone alive."

"Doubting me, are we?" Bakura laughed cruelly. "Oh, believe me, I've killed a dozen of your noble friends. Are you aware of that, or has even that been kept from you, ignorant brat?"

_**"Several resistance groups have formed. One of the larger ones, the Sword of Revealing Light, has increased its activity lately in the death of several young..."**_

"You're..." Malik swallowed. "I'm not ignorant."

"You don't know anything about the world. You don't even care to know. You're like all the others, and you'll die like them, too. Disgusting."

Malik winced at the harsh words, his heart sinking. He'd heard that one before, certainly.

"I know things about the world." He refuted indignantly. "I have a tutor."

"Oh, yes. Your tutor. Funny, that." Bakura laughed. "Teaching you what your brother's decided you should know - in other words, nothing."

"You don't know anything about my brother!" Malik spat.

It was true Mariku had never been close to him, but he was a busy man; that was understandable. Their age difference ranked in almost 17 years - Mariku had a different mother, had been 22 at the time of the Rebellion 12 years ago - and with his responsibilities as Marquis, his brother rarely saw him. But he was a good man. After all, he and his allies had gotten rid of the old, corrupt government, hadn't he? He was a good man.

Bakura's nails dug into his arm, stirring him from his thoughts. "I know more about your brother than you think."

"My brother would never associate with a filthy Blissed like you." Malik shot back viciously.

"I think you'd be surprised at how little you know your brother." Bakura chuckled, apparently deciding their trip was over. He threw open a seemingly random door and shoved Malik through.

Malik stumbled before catching himself, and what he saw made his eyes widen.

"...Miss Kujaku?"

His tutor was lounging in a chair, laughing with a blonde haired man. At his voice, her face fell. She attempted a half-smile.

"Please, Malik, call me Mai."

"You..." Malik whispered. "You're part of the Sword of Revealing Light."

Both Mai and the man jumped a little. Behind Malik, Bakura snorted.

"Well, maybe the Highlander isn't so stupid, after all. He figured that much out."

"You..." Malik swallowed. "You told me to come to the cities yesterday."

Mai avoided his eyes.

"And you!" Malik spun around, jabbing a finger at Bakura. The man raised his eyebrow. "That first day...how did you know I was there?"

Bakura's smile was mocking. He leaned closer so that Malik's still-pointed finger hit his chest.

"First day? Well, well. I hate to be the one to tell you this, Highlander." He whispered with a condescending chuckle. "But I've been trailing you for four years."

Malik's stomach dropped.

Mai had been hired four years ago.

This man had been watching him since he was thirteen.

He felt sick.

"No..." he moaned, his eyes dulling. "You've...been planning..."

"Malik, try to understand." Mai frowned sympathetically, her eyes and voice gentle. "I have nothing against you. You're a good kid."

Malik clenched his fists, a sudden wave of apathy twisting his gut. Dull horror pounded through his veins as the truth settled in - he'd been watched for four years. He was kidnapped. He was going to die. Malik felt only despair. He briefly wondered if this was the side effect of depression the man, Yami, had warned about.

"Right," the other man cleared his throat, offering his hand with a friendly grin. "I'm Jou."

Malik stared at the hand blankly. After a moment, Jou dropped it, his smile faltering.

"Okay, Malik..." The man rubbed his hands. "Any allergies?"

Malik shook his head numbly.

"That makes things easy. Okay, so." He smiled again. "If you could take off your shirt?"

Malik froze.

_No no no no no no no no._

"No." He whispered.

Jou's smile faded completely.

"I'm sorry?"

"I won't." Malik hugged his arms around himself defensively. "I won't take it off."

There was silence.

"Malik, please." Mai brushed a hand through her hair nervously and glancing at Jou, who looked complete unsure of what to do in the face of his defiance. "Please cooperate."

"Take it off, brat."

Bakura's rough growl cut across Mai's statement.

"I won't." Malik mumbled.

"Take it off, Highlander brat." Bakura snarled.

"Bakura-" Jou began uncertainly.

"That's what I'm here for, right? To keep him in line?" Jou offered no reply, and Bakura's cold, hard eyes turned back to Malik, the sneer ever-present on his face. "What's wrong, Highlander brat? Are you self-conscious? Fat? What's with the body shame?"

"...I won't take it off." Malik closed his eyes, swallowing thickly.

"Trust me, if we're going to laugh, you already give us enough material with your very existence." Bakura taunted him with a cruel grin, moving toward Malik. He shrank back. "Take off the shirt, stubborn Highlander."

"Stay away from me!" Malik yelled, panicking suddenly as Bakura moved closer. "I won't-"

"I said, take it _off!_" With lightning speed, Bakura grabbed Malik roughly, pulling him closer as he yanked the material over his head. Malik twisted like a fish out of water desperately, but the shirt was already half-over his head, and with a final tug, Bakura ripped the material off and shoved Malik forward towards the center of the room. Cool air washed over Malik's scars, along with disgust as Bakura's hand touched his back. He stumbled forward.

Malik distantly heard Mai gasp, and Jou mutter a curse under his breath. When he raised his head, though, Malik found himself looking straight into Bakura's slightly wider than normal red-on-red eyes. Stunned, the man's gaze dropped to his hand, the one that had touched Malik's back. And the worst – slowly, an expression of the utmost revulsion flickered across Bakura's features.

Malik felt the fight go out of him, felt his shoulders slump in humiliation.

"Malik," Jou coughed quietly, breaking the awkward silence. "Could you get on the table?"

Losing his will to fight, Malik swallowed and moved to the gestured table.

"...On your stomach, please."

Malik bit back shame and, flipping over, stretched out, shivering at the cold metal table on his bare abdomen.

"Okay, Malik." Jou chirped in a falsely cheerful voice. "It's good you don't have any allergies. I'm going to sedate you, okay?"

"Wh...What are you going to do?" Malik craned his head warily, loathe to fall unconscious again. He shivered at the idea of himself, defenseless in his slumber with these people he didn't know working on his body - especially Bakura, with his sneer and the way he treated Malik like he was diseased.

_**"You're like all the others, and you'll die like them, too. Disgusting."  
><strong>_  
>"It's a simple procedure." Malik could tell Jou was trying too hard with his pleasant falsetto.<p>

_**"This way, Malik, our family will never be forgotten, disgusting as you are..."**_

"...What is it?" Malik asked quietly.

"We're just going to replace something. You'll be sedated, of course, so you don't have to-"

"Don't sedate him."

Malik started at Bakura's cold voice. Jou made a disbelieving, incredulous sort of choke in the back of his throat. Under any other circumstances, Malik might have found the sound funny.

"Are you joking, Bakura?"

"I am not. It's a simple procedure. Just under the skin, right?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Yami put me in charge of our prisoner." Bakura growled. "Tie the Highlander down."

"Bakura," Mai's voice was horrified. "That's inhumane."

"You think they show any mercy when they capture us?" Bakura snarled. "We have a limited supply, anyway. No use wasting it on him, when he won't live much longer. No sedatives. Tie him down or I'll take out the chip myself."

"What chip?" Malik craned his neck frantically, sensing pain in his future, a chill running through him at the mention of his death. "What are you talking about?"

"You don't know how." Jou protested, ignoring Malik. "You'll paralyze him."

"What are you _talking about_?" Malik cried.

"Then do it." Bakura ordered simply.

"...There's no rope here." Jou gave in quietly.

"Jou!" Mai hissed.

"He's in charge of the kid." Jou's voice was defeated. "Yami said so."

"I'll hold him down." Bakura decided, moving forward. Malik jerked back instantly. The assassin caught his wrists and pulled them down taut on either side of the table so he lay flat, held against the surface. Malik raised his head weakly to find Bakura's face inches from his own.

"Please." Malik whispered, searching for pity in Bakura's eyes and finding none. Reality was beginning to creep over him. He'd always had a fear of pain, and being held down with his back exposed brought back unpleasant feelings and memories. "Please. Don't."

"You deserve this." Bakura growled, his expression contemptuous. His hot breath washed over Malik's face - he expected it to be sour, but it was clean, fresh. "This is payment for everything your brother's done."

Malik stared back at him in confusion. He opened his mouth to question Bakura when he felt something cold in the center of his back. He froze, twisting around instinctively to look.

Bakura pulled his wrists down on either side of the table with enough strength to pin him.

"Wait," Malik choked, terror hot and thick in his closed throat. "Wait-"

There was a single sharp pain, a feeling like cold metal. It began to dig in his back, the pain increasing.

"No..." Malik tried to pull away, panicking. "Stop! Please!"

"Bakura..." He heard Jou spit. "This isn't..."

"Keep working." Bakura instructed, holding Malik still. Malik felt something slide through his skin, be pulled out. There was momentary relief.

Suddenly, something rough was being shoved under the skin. Malik's eyes widened as flashbacks began assaulting his eyes, an overwhelming feeling of horror choking him.

_"Please!"_ He screamed, lost in the moment. For a heartbeat, he was six again, bound and gagged. _"Please, Dad, stop!"_

Bakura's hands slipped for a second before regaining their hold. Whatever the object was locked into his muscle with a stab of pain, and Jou's hands rapidly retreated. Malik shuddered violently, nausea threatening to overwhelm him.

"This is sick." He heard Mai whisper hollowly.

"Fuck you, Bakura." Jou's voice was shaking with anger. "Fuck you. Torturing this kid doesn't-it-it won't make things right."

"...Look at his eyes. He's about to pass out, anyway." Bakura muttered, a strange note in his voice.

_No, I'm not..._ Malik protested inwardly, exhaustion sweeping over him. He struggled to raise his eyes and protest. Bakura's dark gaze was unreadable. _No, I'm..._

For the second time that day, darkness reclaimed him.

* * *

><p><strong>Review Review Review~ It makes me happier than you can imagine, and inspires me to write more!<strong>


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